


Dance On Home To Me

by GravityPinefalls



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sibling Incest, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityPinefalls/pseuds/GravityPinefalls
Summary: College freshman Dipper and Mabel return home for Winter Break.
Relationships: Dipper Pines/Mabel Pines
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Dance On Home To Me

Dipper worries, quite a lot, about nearly everything, but one of his greatest worries is that, one of these times, he and Mabel will reunite and something will change. The deeply inappropriate relationship the’ve been nurturing, and hiding, since their last year of high school, could vanish in a flash, he knew. They were in college, exploring a far wider world than they knew before, and every new person they met was potentially the one who would prove to them that this whole sibling thing was a passing phase, an aberration, a mistake borne of the fact that Dipper was similar enough to Mabel’s true soulmate to hold the fort until he (or  _ she _ , who knows!) came on the scene, and made Mabel happy in all the ways that Dipper could not.

He knew, if and when that happened, Mabel would have an extremely difficult time telling him. It could take days, weeks, months, between her decision and her action. So he held his breath every time she called, every time she texted, every time they met up for lunch somewhere, every time they reunited at home over a break in classes. A dozen times, a hundred times, he prepared himself for the inevitable end, and every time (so far!) he had somehow earned a reprieve. Somehow, despite all reason, Mabel had still failed to find someone better than him. Relief poured over him at such times, and this lasted for a good long while, minutes and hours and sometimes even days. And then, they were apart again, and the fear crept in again. Yes, she loved him then, but that was  _ days  _ ago. Did she love him  _ now _ ? 

Dipper had, through sheer force of will, pushed these thoughts away during the perilous week of finals, but his mental strength was sapped by the end of his last exam. Early in the semester, he had bitched and moaned (to Mabel, mostly) about his Physics 201 section being stuck in the absolute last exam slot of the entire university, as this meant he wouldn't be leaving campus until Friday afternoon, December 23. 

But he realized this was a blessing in surprise. His friends had already left campus over the past few days. There was no one left to say goodbye to, no conversations to hold, no need to hold back his emotions. The tears fell freely as he trudged from the massive Natural Sciences building, through the near-empty quad, into the key-carded rear entrance of his dorm room (avoiding the Resident Assistant that might or might not still be at the front desk), up the echoing stairwell and down the whisper-quiet hall.

He sat on his bed a few moments, letting himself cry for a bit before wiping his face and composing himself. It wasn't all about missing Mabel, he told himself. This was, after all, his first semester of college, and only now was it dawning on him that he was actually going to succeed in his major. He'd worked his ass off in high school, passed Advanced Placement classes in Chemistry, History, and Physics, and managed to grab enough scholarships to attend a good state school practically for free. But he needed to keep a GPA of 3.5 to keep his financial aid, and having never taken a college class before, he had no earthly idea just how hard a task that might be. Now, though, final grades for his other classes were already in, and he felt confident enough about the Physics final to say he managed a high B or low A on the class overall. He'd be looking at something between a 3.7 and 4.0 this semester - his free ride would continue into the Spring session. Something close to seventy thousand dollars in educational funding over the next three and a half years no longer hung in the balance. He could go home and tell his parents to expect yet another tuition bill for zero dollars exactly - the school even wrote it that way, "$0.00 due." 

One last trip to the musty dorm bathroom, one splash of water in his face, and he was ready to go. A backpack full of electronics and books, two rolling suitcases of clothes and toiletries and other miscellaneous items, were all he took with him, and this sent some anxiety through him as he realized this didn't seem quite enough to live on for two weeks.

He made one last search of his side of the room. He patted his pockets for his wallet and keys and phone, patted his backpack to feel his laptop, and feeling unsure about the solid weight against his palm, took off his backpack to look inside, and feeling uncertain about the laptop (it looked like any other Dell) opened it up to make sure the marks of rubbed-off paint of the keyboard matched his memory, and he hadn’t accidentally switched it with someone else’s during his last cram session in the library.

_ Mabel _ , he thought, as he replaced the laptop and noticed the square box that was in the same pocket yesterday wasn't anymore. 

Cold ice shot up his spine. The gift wasn't there. The makeup sampler kit that Mabel had talked casually about during one of their Skype calls - comparing it derisively to some of her more favorite products, in such a way Dipper could tell she actually wanted the thing but not enough to justify spending that sort of money on herself - was not in his backpack. His knees weakened, and he thought he might vomit. What happened to the gift? He put it in his backpack to make sure he'd have it with him at all times, so he wouldn't forget it in his rush to leave after his last exam. 

The memory returned, and he kicked over his smaller rolling suitcase, zipping it open and dumping its contents. In the very center, rolled up in several sweatshirts to keep it safe, the carefully wrapped box had not moved from where he placed it last night. He breathed a sigh of relief. He'd moved the gift because he was afraid that it would get too banged up in his backpack. He quickly repacked, and made three more circuits of his room before feeling comfortable enough to leave.

Almost forgetting something important had now driven his anxiety into full gear, and he was again thankful for the near-empty campus as he locked and tested and unlocked and opened and closed and locked and tested and unlocked and opened and closed and locked the door to his room, finding some measure of relief in confirming the door would not open when locked and would open when unlocked, knowing full well that he was being completely fucking insane, while also telling himself that this stupid little ritual wasn't hurting anything and he really needed to settle his addled brain for the two hour drive ahead.

After a minute or two of this comforting madness, he pocketed his keys and turned toward the elevator, checking behind him twice to make sure he didn't leave anything outside his room. Earlier that morning, he'd moved his car from the resident lot a half-mile away to a paid hourly spot just around the block - not only to get out of town faster, but to confirm the car was still running despite having not driven it for almost a month. He tossed his bags in the backseat, jumped in, and turned the key. As the engine warmed up, he pulled out his cellphone.

Mabel picked up on the first ring.

"Dipper!" she squealed, making his face flush and his chest swell. The sound of her voice alone was enough to make him melt, but hearing her call her name with such unadulterated joy made his stomach flip and flop. "Dipper, please, PLEASE be one of those bits where you tell something came up and you won't be home on time, and then there's a knock at the door and you tell me it's because you're early, and you're at the door. Tell me you're standing outside right now."

He laughed.

"Sorry Mabel, I -"

He was interrupted by an unfamiliar sound, a clunk and creak followed by the crackle of wind on Mabel's cellphone.

"Mabel, did you - did you just run to the front door and stick your head out?"

Another creak and clunk, and the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt latching.

"No," she said timidly. "That was - that was the TV."

He snorted a laugh into the phone.

"All right, my mistake. I was just giving you a heads-up. I'm done with exams and I'll be on the road in a few minutes. I'll see you in two hours if the traffic isn't too bad. Tell Mom and Dad."

"Do you want to meet up halfway?" she asked. The question hung in the air a moment. It was a ridiculous offer. Mabel jumping in her car, driving from their parents house toward him, so they could meet at some highway rest stop a mere hour faster than if she'd stay put?

"Blah, nevermind," she said. "That's such a stupid idea. I don't know why I said that."

He felt sure he could feel her blushing on the other side of the line. 

"Nah, I get ya. It's been a long semester for both of us. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"I'm counting on it," she said. "But drive safe. Seriously. If you're too burned out, just grab a hotel. You know Dad will pay you back."

"I know. I'm about to get some gas station coffee; that'll keep me jittery for the whole ride.

"Well, jitter on, jitterbug," she said. "Dance on home to me."

This was the sort of nonsense they loved to fling at each other, but something about her phrasing made his heart beat fast. There was something oddly ... intimate? ... possessive? ... in her tone. Even jokingly, that she would tell him to dance for her. To come home to her. Heat swelled in his belly, and he felt himself choke up.

"D-dancing away," he said. "On Dancer and Prancer right now, and I'll work my way through the reindeer-"

"Get off the phone and drive, you doof!" she laughed, and - perhaps knowing it was the fastest way to get him driving - Mabel hung up without another word.

He smiled and placed the phone in an empty cupholder.

_ Dance on home to me.  _ What a perfectly Mabel phrase. Did she know how accurate it was? That if and when he danced, he danced for her? When he came home, he came home for her? Always her, always Mabel.

The anxiety slipped away. He was so sure she'd be too busy for his call, or too distracted to offer the sort of casual yet heart-to-heart reassurance he found himself needing from her more often than he perhaps should. But in so few words she managed to say so much - that she missed him every bit as much as he missed her. All that remained was the lingering question - did she still love him, as he loved her, or had their three months apart changed all that? 

That was a question he could leave unanswered for now. She missed him, and wanted him close, and that was enough. She wanted him to dance on home to her, and that he would.

He plugged his phone into the car's Aux cable and clicked through the library, selecting a playlist entitled "BABBA Drivetime" without hesitation, cranking up the stereo, and pulling out onto the empty street. Head bobbing, singing with confidence, he made good time.

* * *

He called her again as soon as he parked on the street beside Mabel's heavily-bumper-stickered Toyota.

"Dipper?"

"Yeah," he said, pulling his bags out the backseat. "I'm doing the bit this time. Highway traffic. Won't be home at exactly the time I said I would, ten minutes early, yada yada."

The phone beeped a disconnected call, and he was pretty sure she hung up at the word "bit." The front door opened as he stuffed the phone in his pocket.

She was radiant. It was the first time he'd seen her in person with her new haircut, wavy and shoulder-length. It seemed to frame her face especially well, drawing his eyes to her soft cheeks and upturned mouth. She grinned, racing toward him, purple flats slapping the brick walkway, diving into his arms. It was all he could do to avert his face from hers, to resist the overwhelming urge to kiss her, violently, right here in the driveway. He satisfied himself with a bear hug, lifting her an inch or two off the ground, feeling the full weight of this person who brought him so much joy. She squealed in surprise and delight as he lifted her, and he felt her thighs brush against his hips for an instant, as if she'd started to wrap her legs around his waist but immediately thought better of it. Her red, green-accented sweater was light and silky smooth under his fingers, and her chest was warm and soft against his own. She was thrilling and vibrant and smelled like cherries and lemon and vanilla, and he wanted to touch and kiss her from head to toe.

"You dorkus," she said, grabbing his hat and pulling it down over his eyes as he set her down again. "You can't just pick up an alpha twin like that." 

He caught her blush as he adjusted his cap. A growth spurt over the summer followed by a mild case of athleticism had transitioned his arms into a firmer breed of noodle. He wasn't about to play for any collegiate teams in anything, but he could at least walk in the doors of the intramural gym with confidence that was more real than fake these days.

"Can't help it," he grinned. "You sounded disappointed on the phone earlier. Thought you needed a pick-me-up."

She groaned heavily at this, throwing her shoulders into it, falling backward as if the pun had snuffed the very life out of her, but he caught her in his arms again. God, it would have been so easy to slide an arm under her knees, scoop her up and carry her back to the house. He was pretty sure he'd be able to get that far before being visibly winded. But their parents were already coming out to greet him. Mabel sensed the tension in his body and stood up straight again, and he rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans.

"Hey Dad. Hey Mom," he said.

Their father offered him a firm handshake that quickly transitioned into a warm embrace.

"Great to have you home, Dipper."

Mom's hug lingered far longer, and was followed by a firm kiss on his forehead, and by the time they were done Dad and Mabel had already dragged his luggage into the house.

"Sorry we couldn't wait for dinner," she said. "I'll go warm up a plate while you get settled."

"No problem, and thanks."

* * *

The holidays were always a bit of a mashup for the Pines family, given that they weren't particularly religious. He had vague recollections of attending Temple with his grandparents when much younger, but that's about it. He was pretty sure Winter Break would be just like any other vacation except for Mabel. Even when they were very little, she was the one to pick out decorations. An electric menorah here, a miniature Christmas tree there, tinsel and fake snow and wreaths, red and green, blue and white. Somehow it all worked together.

Mabel had come home three days before him, giving her plenty of time to Holiday up the place before his arrival. Sure, Mom and Dad helped, but he could see Mabel's hand in every little detail, particularly in the living room. Ribbons tied just so. Wreath garlands snaking in and out of holiday cards on the mantel. And in one corner, an entire village of ceramic houses with paper-thin windows glowing soft yellow.

Dipper held Mabel’s gift in his hands, thumbing the wrapping absently as he took in the scene. He’d been home only a few hours now, only long enough for a quick dinner and a shower. For the moment, everyone was in the kitchen, preparing snacks for tonight’s movie. It would be another two hours before he and Mabel could actually be alone. That’s assuming, of course, that Mabel  _ wants _ to be alone with him. 

The cardboard box in his hand creaked a bit and he realized with a start he was squeezing it so tight he would actually deform it. He quickly set it down beside the others in the corner of the room, underneath the bush-like potted plant dressed up like a Christmas tree, on the other side of the traditional anti-Waddles fence.

“Ah, there you are.”

Mabel quick-stepped to him, immediately glomming to his side, wrapping her arms around his neck in an I’m-not-strangling-you-but-I-could-if-I-wanted-too sort of way. She followed his eyeline to the ceramic houses.

“Ah, I see you’re a man of taste,” she said. “Whadaya think?” 

"They’re beautiful," he said, and Mabel squeezed his shoulder softly in thanks.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, you really outdid yourself this year. Again."

"Well, that’s what I was going for," she said.

Her fingers slipped down his shoulder, sliding into his palm.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too, Dip."

"No, I mean I ..." 

Words failed him. Three months they'd been apart. Three months of longing for her touch. Three months of wanting her in all the wrong ways. And the innocence of her demeanor made him feel all the more perverse.

She turned toward him, and he could see her eyes shimmering with held-back tears. She pressed a finger to her lips, and he nodded. He would speak no further. His heart broke, to cause her such suffering. He could only imagine the pain to, practically single-handedly, put together such a visual feast, only to have her own brother immediately ruin any illusion of them having a healthy family.  _ I love you, but in a very particular way, a way I shouldn’t. _

Satisfied he would be silent, she lowered her hand, fingers ghosting over his chin, his throat, until her palm was pressed to the center of his chest. She leaned in close, too close, forehead touching his, mouth so close he could feel her breath on his lips.

"I've been keeping track since I got here. Mom and Dad go to bed at nine now," she said. "Dead asleep by ten."

The slow realization that Mabel was planning, nay, scheming, about something so dangerous ...

"We don't have to," she said, all too suddenly. "It's enough ... it's enough for me to just be together in the same house again. But if you want to ... then maybe tonight ... we could, um ... exchange gifts?"

"Mabel," he whispered. Awestruck. His mind only starting to understand that nothing had changed between them. She still wanted him in the same way he wanted her.

Her face blushed crimson.

"N-nevermind, sorry, I thought - sorry!"

Dammit, she put herself out on a limb there, and he was just leaving her hanging. He reached out before she could turn away.

"Yes," he said. "A thousand times yes, Mabel. I swear to god I'm going to gift you silly. You're going to have so many gifts you won't be able to walk str-"

She made a soft yelp and clapped her hands over his mouth.

"Oh my  _ god _ ," she half-mouthed, half-whispered. She glared at him, flicked her eyes to the direction of the noisy kitchen, and back to him. He nodded in understanding.

"Sorry," he said, as she released him. "Got a little carried away. It's been a really tough week."

"I know," she said. “I know, but -  _ geez! _ ”

* * *

Their parents had managed to get almost entirely through  _ Elf _ , giving up sometime after nine, and leaving the twins to continue their Christmas movie marathon on their own.

They knew their parents habits, the locations of squeaky floorboards, the way sound carried through the house. They knew by setting the TV speakers at this specific level and speaking in a normal volume, they couldn't be heard upstairs. They knew to listen for the creak at the upper landing, as this would give them a good five or ten seconds warning before they would be in the sight line of someone descending the staircase. 

"So," said Mabel.

"So," said Dipper.

"Let's unpack that uncharacteristic, indiscreet, yet not-unappreciated outburst from earlier."

"Let's not," he said, blushing furiously.

"Something about 'gifting me silly,’ right? I’m not so sure we're on the same page on what a 'gift' actually is."

"Sorry," he said softly.

"No, none of that. It's not like I'm in charge of all our secret codes. I mean, alpha twin, so yeah, I totally could make unilateral decisions on this, and  _ all  _ matters of import. But I think I'm going to need your input on this. In fact, I'm going to need lots and lots of input tonight."

"I don't know what's gotten into you lately but I have to say I'm a fan," he demurred.

"It's more about what  _ hasn't _ gotten into me lately, and  _ thank you _ for teeing that one up."

"You bet. So what, we're moving on to single entendres here?"

"I just want to know what's coming, is all. I mean, besides you. And me. Me a lot, I think."

The ridiculous waggle of her eyebrows sent them both into a half-minute of gigglefits.

"This is a lot easier to do by text message," he said.

"Yeah, but this is more fun. What do you call sexting but in real life?"

"Just ... just dirty talk, I guess."

"Well, I'm digging it. So spill. Tell me what you said before."

He sighed.

"I believe my exact words were, 'I'm going to gift you silly,' and 'you won't be able to walk straight.'"

"Hmm," she said. "Unusual use of 'gift.' I  _ think _ I get your meaning, but why don't you tell me and I'll see if I'm right."

"Come on, Mabel. You know I'm no good at this."

"On the contrary."

She turned to him, reading his discomfort.

"Please?" she asked.

"Fuck," he said. "The word is fuck. I was trying to be all sexy and crap. I know it sounds stupid. You don't have to pretend to like it."

"Just ... just say it right."

He sighed, set his jaw, and spoke evenly. 

"I'm going to fuck you silly," he said, feeling very silly himself. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you can't walk straight tomorrow."

But the strangest thing happened. Mabel didn't laugh at this ridiculous boast. Instead, she tensed up, sucking a breath through her teeth and letting it out slowly. And then, she raised a hand, extended an index finger, and lightly tapped her ear.

He swallowed saliva, and leaned closer, the scent of her hair and skin pleasing him greatly, and he brought his lips to the shell of her ear and whispered.

"I'm going to fuck you silly, Mabel Pines," he said. "I am going to go to absolute  _ town  _ on you tonight."

"Hnnngg," said Mabel, her eyes screwed shut, fingers digging into her knees.

Well, this ... this is new. And delightful. And as ridiculous as he felt saying stuff like that, the fact Mabel would react in such a ... a  _ primal  _ way ... he found himself believing his own words. 

"You alright?" he asked.

"Barely," she whispered. "Wow, you are ... we need to start talking more like that. Wowie zowie, that's ... ah, god, I'm gonna have to change my underwear."

"Seriously?"

"Mmm-hmm. Sploosh city. All right, my turn."

She leaned over to him, lips all but pressed to his ear.

“Blowjob. I’m gonna give you one. Tonight.”

"God," he whispered. They were - dare he say it - reasonably talented at oral sex, but so far as he could recall, neither of them have ever used the word “blowjob” before, and hearing her say it for the first time drew quite a reaction from him

"Well? Did that get you hard?"

"Painfully so. God damn it, you're sure we need to wait ... god, another 45 minutes?"

"Yeppers."

"This is torture."

"Isn't it just?"

She smiled, punched his arm.

“Man,” she said. “I am almost -  _ almost _ \- looking forward to next semester. I think there’s some truly epic phone sex in our future.”

“I aim to please,” he said.

“Mmm,” she said, snuggling closer. “And you never miss, either. Gonna call you SureShot McHappyTimes.”

“That’s … a decidedly busy, and dangerously ambiguous, nickname.”

“Well, it’s yours. And … seriously, I really need to stop now, or I’m gonna die of horny or something.”

“Same here. Milk and cookie break? I saw some fancy tins next to the coffee maker. Looked promising.”

“Sure thing, Sureshot,” she said, clicking her tongue, winking, and double-finger-gunning him.

“Eugh,” he replied, rolling his eyes in feigned misery, and then quickly grabbing one of her hands to pull her off the couch.

They smiled, and talked, and held hands, and footsied a bit, keeping the kitchen table between them, their chaperone for the greater part of an hour, and they drank milk, and ate M&M sugar cookies, and looked at the clock, and Dipper fell in love with Mabel all over again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The End … Question Mark?


End file.
